


Gill Cleaning

by aquatarius



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gillplay, M/M, No Sex, Pale Porn, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Smut, Troll Gills, and ghb is someone else's interpretation, grand orphaner, heavily influenced by splickidy, no sexual relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4785332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatarius/pseuds/aquatarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dualscar comes to the Highblood Makara for help, and Makara gives it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gill Cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> GHB was inspired by a friend of mine. it is pale, not red or black, and there is no sexual relationship going on.

Grand Highblood Makara woke with a start. Someone was creeping up the steps to his spire. He sat up, opening his eyes, and looked at the doorway. Orphaner Dualscar was slinking in, fins pressed down against his neck, almost completely flat. He was shuffling his feet, his face screwed up in its defensive scowl. He was dressed up in his full armor, complete with boots, and his most dramatic cape, the one with literal freaking spikes on the collar.

 Makara nestled down into his pile of bones, where he’d been napping, and half closed his eyes. He kept his eyes away from the box Dualscar was keeping clutched to his chest, so tight his knuckles looked cramped. He honked softly, and Dualscar jumped, and his head swung up to snarl an empty note at Makara.

 “Brother.”

 “…Makara.”

 There was too long a pause, and an even longer pause before Dualscar shuffled over to the pile and set himself on the edge of it, as if he was perching. Makara waited for Dualscar to talk, and when he didn’t, closed his eyes the rest of the way, meaning to finish his nap.

 “I’ll. Just go. Then.”

 Makara opened his eyes with an inward sigh.

 “That would make this trip rather pointless.”

 “Just like my f*ckin’ life.” Dualscar snapped. Makara gave another inward sigh, and sat up. He reached over and wrapped an arm around Dualscar’s waist, then began to pull him closer.

 “What’s got you all up and depressed, brother?” Makara asked, nuzzling behind Dualscar’s fin. Dualscar grumbled, and Makara settled in for a long dawn of drawing out what ever had happened to his palemate and then smoothing it over. Food, drink, ego stroking, fin and horn stroking, snuggling, and blankets would probably all be needed. Well, Makara wasn’t complaining; he didn’t have anything better to do anyway.

 “Is it your kismesis?” He asked, giving the root of Dualscar’s fin a small nuzzle. He nibbled on the bottom tine of it while he waited for a reply, ever so careful not to hurt the delicate piece of webbing. No reply came, so he tried to the next most obvious. “Is it your matepsrite?” Still nothing came. Makara gently took the fin between his teeth, and gave a tiny little tug. Dualscar’s breath hitched, and Makara let go of the fin and went back to nuzzling. “Talk to me, pretty shark.”

 Another hitch of the breath when he was called pretty. Makara put a hand on his shoulder, and gently tilted him back to lay on the pile. Makara got down on his stomach, laying the opposite way of Dualscar, so they were perpendicular. He nuzzled Dualscar’s fin, and then kissed the root. He began to work his way down to his neck, nuzzling Dualscar’s chin.

 “Pretty shark.  _Gorgeous_  shark, so pretty. Brave, beautiful, shining shark.” Makara breathed out the words as he continued to work his way down, down to Dualscar’s gills. He kissed the top frill, his pusher sinking when he felt how dry it was. He sighed quietly, and rasped his unnaturally long tongue across the gill, drawing out a gasp and a shudder.

 Makara began to work his tongue into the gill, enjoying the soft gasps and groans it drew out of his little pale mate. He watched as Dualscar’s grasp on the box slipped, and finally let go. Makara continued to work his tongue in, letting himself drool heavily on the sea dweller’s neck. He tried to ignore the taste of Dualscar’s skin, salty and yet, very sweet. It was too tempting to sink his teeth in if he thought about the taste too much. He drew out after a few more moments, and took the box. It was black, about a foot long and half a foot wide, maybe half a foot deep.

 Dualscar, for his part, was trying to get his breath back. He wiped his neck, and growled up at Makara. Makara chuckled deeply and sat up, setting the box in his lap. While Dualscar got the slobber off of him, Makara took a look at what the box held.

 It was filled with bottles and scrubs and soaps and rags. A mirror was attached to the lid, and Makara could see that his paint had smeared slightly when he was slobbering over his palemate.  He’d have to fix that later.   Dualscar leaned heavily on Makara, resting his head on Makara’s shoulder.

 “Hello, pretty shark.” Makara rumbled. Dualscar grunted, glaring at himself in the mirror. Makara leaned his head on Dualscar’s head, rubbing his cheek into his hair and probably getting paint smeared in it.

 “What’s all this for?” Makara picked up a soft looking rag, and some oil. He sniffed at the oil, and found it was odorless, and sort of slick. He examined the label for a few moments, finding it wasn’t in the main language, but in some sort of sea dweller dialect. He sniffed again, and came to the conclusion that it was some sort of shining oil.

  He dripped some on the rag, and then shifted his shoulder so Dualscar slid off and fell into his lap. Dualscar tried to turn to glare up at him, but Makara put on hand on his head, keeping his head down. He balanced the rag and the oil in the other. Makara set the bottle into the box, and set the box next to himself, keeping the rag in his hand, between two fingers. He kept one hand on his moirail’s cheek, crooning down to him.

 He set the rag on one of Dualscar’s horn and gave a gentle rub. Dualscar’s eyes got big, then snapped shut. Ah. So, he’d guessed right. Dualscar wanted to be pampered. Well, what Dualscar wanted, Dualscar got.

 “Pretty, sweet shark. So nice, so brave for me. Holding still and letting me get my pale on.” Makara said. He rubbed the horn again, and Dualscar shivered. It must have felt like miracles, Makara decided. He crooned again, and continued to rub the horn. It wasn’t long before the horn began to flake. Usually, Makara would’ve preferred to clean horns in the bath, but, he wasn’t in any mood for moving. And Dualscar would’ve probably flat out refused. He rubbed more, and used his thumb claw to gently nudge some flakes of keratin off. He watched as the horn gradually became sharper and shinier.

 Dualscar kept his eyes closed, and began to purr softly, quietly, trying not to let Makara hear. Makara heard, of course, but ignored it and continued. Once he’d finished the first horn, he slipped an arm under Dualscar’s torso, and flipped him so that he was facing Makara’s stomach and his other horn was up. Dualscar buried his face into Makara’s stomach, grumbling, and Makara began to work on the other horn.

 After he finished the second horn, he set the rag aside. Now it was time to get down to it. The next part would be unpleasant, in part, but necessary. He had figured out just was the box was for, and why Dualscar’s gills were so dry. He hadn’t been taking care of himself.

 Makara simply lifted up Dualscar, who squawked and squirmed, and set him so that he was between the Highblood’s legs, Dualscar’s back pressed up against Makara’s stomach and chest. Makara wrapped one arm around Dualscar’s chest and arms, and hooked one leg around Dualscar’s waist, hooking his own foot under his other leg, in the bend of his knee. He picked up the box with his free hand and balanced it on his leg. Dualscar’s fins flattened and he hissed softly.

 “Don’t.”

 “Why did you come here, little shark?”

 “…”

 “You came so I could take care of you. Do you want me to or not?” Makara held still, waiting. After a few tense moments, Dualscar relaxed and leaned back against Makara’s chest, grumbling. Makara let go of his chest and arms, but kept his leg in place, just in case Dualscar decided to bolt. Dualscar didn’t do anything other than glare at the wall, and cross his arms. The Highblood chuckled. “Grumpy fish.”

 “I am not grumpy.”

 “Yes you are. Fins or gills, first?”

 “I am not. Neither.”

 “We’ve been through this, little shark. You’re grumpy more often then not. Fins it is.” Makara picked up a new cloth, and Dualscar glowered at the mirror for a few moments before snatching out a bottle and throwing it over his shoulder to-hopefully-smack Makara in the face with it. Makara sighed deeply as the bottle landed in his hair.

 He plucked it out and wet the cloth, and then gently began to rub Dualscar’s left fin with it. He scrubbed each tine and each inch of webbing, beginning to hum softly. It was an old song one of his best friends had taught him when he was but a wriggler. He’d heard her and her moirail humming it, and asked what it was. Makara was well aware that Dualscar loved singing and music, and that he’d learn this and begin to hum it.

 After he was done with Dualscar left fin, he kissed it softly, and nuzzled his cheek.

 “You’re doing so good for me.”

 “…I am?”

 “Yes. Holding so still, being so quiet and good for me. My little shark.”

 “Yes. Yours.”

 Makara rumbled his appreciation, and gently nudged Dualscar’s head to tilt slightly to the left. He oiled his second fin, taking his time, then kissed that one as well.

 “Done with that. I’m going to do your gills, and you’re going to hold still and let me, scum sucker.” Makara allowed a touch of growl into his voice, and felt Dualscar shudder. He made no protest, however, tilting up his chin. Makara knew just how much to command, how much to pretend.

 Dualscar seemed to get his pale on when he felt control taken from him, when Makara pretended like he was going to force the issue. Sometimes, it  _was_  necessary to pretend, to make Dualscar feel like he had no choice in the matter when it came to taking care of himself. If he actually said no, or don’t, or stop, of course, Makara would’ve stopped in an instant.

 Dualscar trembled slightly as Makara slid a hand down to his right side gills, and gave them a small rub. Dualscar fumbled for a bottle, and Makara gently latched his voodoos into his mind. It wasn’t easy, if possible at all, to do that to a sea dweller, normally, but Dualscar had let him root around ages ago, and always left the back door open, so to speak. Makara gently picked out some memories, and then spread the watery substance on his fingers and rubbed it in around the gills. He soon set that bottle aside, and picked up the next one, an almost gel like substance. He rubbed that one on Dualscar’s frills. Dualscar mewled quietly, the gills twitching, rippling.

 Makara rumbled once more, and went on, rubbing the gel on the frills. It would promote their health, cleaning and keep them somewhat damp for a good long while. Next came the hard part.

 Makara took a brush, and a new oil. He got the brush wet, and began to insert the brush into the top gill. Dualscar held absolutely still. One wrong movement, and the brush could jam into something, and break his gills somehow.

 Makara gently brushed the outer most filaments of the gill, then drew out the brush, re-wet it, and inserted it into the next gill. He went down Dualscar’s neck like that. Then he got a longer, thinner brush, and another oil, keeping his voodoos shifting around in Dualscar’s mind.

 He started at the top again, and worked his way down. By the time he was done, Dualscar’s eyes were unfocused, his entire body relaxed and limp. He was purring, a dull, relaxed sound. Makara tipped his head to the other side, and repeated the process, gel first, then brush, then deep brush.

 He set the bottles and the brushes back in the box, and picked up the bottle of the substance that he’d rubbed into Dualscar’s neck, around his gills. He rubbed that in again, taking it so much slower this time, and letting his leg slid out so Dualscar could move.  

 Dualscar didn’t move, staying still and letting Makara rub the liquid into the area around his gills. After maybe twenty minutes, Makara finally stopped. He packed everything away into the box, and shut it, setting it to the side. He put his hand on Dualscar’s shoulder and was about to say something but stopped.

Dualscar was snoring. Ever so quietly, his eyes shut all the way, his breathing slow, he was snoring. Makara slowly moved him to his side, and then stretched out on the bones and curled an arm around Dualscar. He pulled him close, and closed his own eyes, letting himself go back to his nap.


End file.
